


A Real Fight

by Remember When (scribblemyname)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Arguments, F/M, Fluff, Kings & Queens, Marriage, Romance, Slice of Life, imposter syndrome, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/Remember%20When
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oddly, as much as Aravis was the one who had been 'properly brought up,' she was the one who didn't particularly care about whether others thought she hewed closely enough to the social standard. Cor never did seem to forget his roots though or the fact that he'd been Shasta once and a very poor slave boy in Calormen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Real Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mazeem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazeem/gifts).



_They're not like me; they've been properly brought up._

It hadn't actually taken Aravis very long to learn that boys were not sensible people, and Cor had never been a candidate to be an exception to the rule.

Oddly, as much as she was the one who had been 'properly brought up,' she was the one who didn't particularly care about whether others thought she hewed closely enough to the social standard. Neither did Queen Lucy of Narnia, and the two got along especially well because of it. Cor never did seem to forget his roots though or the fact that he'd been Shasta once and a very poor slave boy in Calormen. He never seemed to forget that he hadn't been raised with his real family, and his manners had suffered because of it.

"Which it wasn't his fault," Aravis pointed out crossly to Lucy in one of their confidential talks. " _And_ he's alive."

Lucy just laughed goldenly and kissed her young friend. "He'll figure it out," she said with a wink.

Aravis rather doubted it and said so.

* * *

_"Oh stop it," said Aravis, "or we'll have a real fight._

She had been dressing and he should have been too, but now they would be late for his first banquet hosting as prince regent.

"Cor!" Aravis paused in the doorway from her side of their suite of rooms to his.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, palms pressed against his eyes and forehead as if he were trying to will away a bad memory or a headache.

"Oh, Cor." She sighed and went to his side. She traced the line his frown made between his brows and wondered if it would be visible all the time when they were older. "Your people love you," she reminded him.

"They love the idea of me," he said bitterly, raising his head. "I'm not— I wasn't..."

But Cor couldn't articulate his fears the way he wanted and that was nothing particularly new, so Aravis brushed them aside quickly.

"Oh, stop it, Cor. The only one who minds your past is you." Aravis had thought less of him once long ago when she was a foolish little girl, but she was no longer that little girl and still Cor couldn't see what was staring him in the face. "You're the strongest, most heroic man I know."

Most would offer that to the High King Peter of Narnia or even King Edmund, his brother, but Aravis loved Cor's bravery more because of how unwitting it was than all the honorable strength of the neighboring royalty.

" _Corin's_ stro—"

"Oh, stop it!" Aravis hissed, balling her hands into fists and surprising herself only slightly at the vehemence in her words. "Corin's a better boxer. Corin was raised by Father. Corin, Corin, Corin! You're more dangerous with a sword, more reliable in a pinch, and your father didn't choose Corin—"

"That's law," Cor protested.

"—and neither did I!" She was on her feet now. "So just stop it!"

"That has nothing to do with them," he replied heatedly. " _You're_ different."

"Of course, I am. I'm your wife!"

A knock at the door interrupted them and Aravis shot him a glare as she scooped up her wrap and headed out for the dinner. After a long moment, Cor's heavy footsteps followed behind her.

* * *

_Aravis also had many quarrels (and, I'm afraid even fights) with Cor, but they always made it up again..._

Aravis came quietly into the nursery to see Cor standing guard over their sleeping infant son, one hand stretched out to gently brush back Ram's soft, downy hair. Anvard's winter was a little chilly and she had lain curled up in the blankets for an hour before she huffed a sigh and went to find her husband and the warmth she was missing.

They'd had a fight. They had far too many fights and quarrels, but she didn't really foresee being stripped of her short temper any time in the near future either.

She heard Cor sigh heavily and watched his gaze shift to the window, staring off into Aslan only knew what brooding thoughts.

Aravis hitched up her nightgown and tiptoed over the stone floor and the soft rugs she'd had thrown down after Ram's birth to gently wrap her arms around Cor's back and lean her head against his shoulder.

"I'm really not up for another fight," Cor said after a long moment.

A short, wet laugh came out despite herself. She shook her head and changed the subject abruptly. "You're a wonderful husband and a wonderful father, the best little Ram could have. You're the only one I want, Cor."

He turned to her. "I'm not scared," he said, a trace of his own crossness.

"No," Aravis agreed because the only way to make up a fight was for one of them to agree. "You're different though; you've said it. You're not like your brother and your father who were properly brought up." She smiled ruefully. "That's why I like you."

He stared at her, then chuckled and rubbed a strand of her hair through his fingers. "You were properly brought up," he teased.

"And hated every minute of it." She shook her head and slid into his finally welcoming arms. "We should make Ram spend summers in a tiny, little cabin where no one cares that he's a prince and they make him do chores and he has to eat whatever he can grow in a garden."

"It's a waste of time he could spend studying and training."

"Oh, he'll have all winter for that." Aravis peeked over at the child she was gleefully imagining bemoaning his summers. She sighed. "We don't have to decide tonight, Cor. We don't have to decide anything tonight."

"I hope he won't hate every minute of it," Cor commented.

Aravis tugged his hand. "Come to bed and we can plot all the ways we make sure he won't."

He did come to bed, but they spent less time discussing Ram's future than making up their fight.


End file.
